Alright. A night of DOOM the night after Valentine's Day,
when you've had time to let it sink in that nobody in the entire world wants to
be your Valentine and you'll probably die alone shivering in a cold, dank
basement and your body won't be discovered for months because nobody missed you
or even cared at all. Troo doom.
Ogre trudged up on stage to flatten the unworthy masses (and there was an excellent sized crowd at the show) with their take on doom, which features tons of top notch soloing from axe wizard Ross Markonish. Seriously, this dude woodsheds up on the highest mountains of Maine and brings it back down to Earth to share his message of electric love with the downtrodden and drunk. There was also a song about some sort of giant robot woman who can't get a date so she kills everything in the universe. You know how it goes.
Born of Thunder stepped on the gas and sped it up a little, or a lot, depending on your state of mind and what type of chemicals you had ingested before and/or during the show. More rabid soloing, this time by Mr. Craig Silverman, and between song banter by the band that rivaled that of the Carson/McMahon team at the height of their powers. Catch bassist Joey Sinn in the hit Swedish TV show "Streetboat".
And then, my friends, Hounds of Hasselvander set up their gear, including a mammoth drumset, and proceeded to teach everyone in attendance a lesson of what troo old-school doom is, the kind of doom that was handed down by Butler/Iommi/Osbourne/Ward and passed along to the likes of Pentagram. No bullshit, heads-down, let's get 'er done DOOM. When Joe Hasselvander wasn't riffing the fuck out, he was peeling off solos that would make most guitarists just put their fucking guitars down, go crawl in the corner and weep into their Sword t-shirts. Not many bands sound like this. Serious first-rate shit.
Maybe dying alone, Valentineless, isn't such a bad thing after all. Doom on, brothers.
Ogre trudged up on stage to flatten the unworthy masses (and there was an excellent sized crowd at the show) with their take on doom, which features tons of top notch soloing from axe wizard Ross Markonish. Seriously, this dude woodsheds up on the highest mountains of Maine and brings it back down to Earth to share his message of electric love with the downtrodden and drunk. There was also a song about some sort of giant robot woman who can't get a date so she kills everything in the universe. You know how it goes.
Born of Thunder stepped on the gas and sped it up a little, or a lot, depending on your state of mind and what type of chemicals you had ingested before and/or during the show. More rabid soloing, this time by Mr. Craig Silverman, and between song banter by the band that rivaled that of the Carson/McMahon team at the height of their powers. Catch bassist Joey Sinn in the hit Swedish TV show "Streetboat".
And then, my friends, Hounds of Hasselvander set up their gear, including a mammoth drumset, and proceeded to teach everyone in attendance a lesson of what troo old-school doom is, the kind of doom that was handed down by Butler/Iommi/Osbourne/Ward and passed along to the likes of Pentagram. No bullshit, heads-down, let's get 'er done DOOM. When Joe Hasselvander wasn't riffing the fuck out, he was peeling off solos that would make most guitarists just put their fucking guitars down, go crawl in the corner and weep into their Sword t-shirts. Not many bands sound like this. Serious first-rate shit.
Maybe dying alone, Valentineless, isn't such a bad thing after all. Doom on, brothers.
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